Five year old lost her fourth tooth this week. The first time it happened I gained a huge warm glow from the thundering feet into my room in the early morning accompanied by shouts of pure joy: "Mummeeee, it worked, she came!", but four teeth in and I'm half-expecting her to become jaded by the regularity of the tooth fairy's night-time visits.
So much so that I very nearly almost forgot to swop tooth for coin in the night. I even got as far as getting into bed and closing my eyes before sitting bolt upright and stumbling into the girls' bedroom to carry out this essential duty.
So when she came into my room - wailing this time: "She didn't come!", I was more than taken aback. And not just because this was happening at an hour I'd rather not see. In the back of my mind I started to think that maybe I had dreamt the bit where I remembered and got back up to be the tooth fairy. Maybe I had actually forgotten after all? I went into her room to check under the pillow, leaving her to mourn the loss of her tooth in my room. After a few minutes of fruitless searching I started to work out a plan for an unnoticed run downstairs to where my coin stash would be, trying to think up my story as I went - this had to be good enough to convince three and five year old that I hadn't just popped downstairs to get another coin.
I managed to do this and carried on in a pantomime-style: "Come and just have one more look, you never know..." This was followed by her reluctantly coming back in, lifting the pillow and exclaiming: "Oh, look, she brought me two coins, I was only kidding before."
Doh. Outdone by a five year old on the subterfuge front. Now what happens for tooth five? The art of deceipt is clearly beyond me.
All ideas gratefully received.